


lostmyhead.

by tydalwaves



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Agoraphobia, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, TW: suicidal thoughts, panic disorder, tw: mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tydalwaves/pseuds/tydalwaves
Summary: tyler didn't get out of the house much.it wasn't that he didn't like other people,it was more that he didn't like himself.





	lostmyhead.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so this is my first time publishing a fic of any sorts on ao3, i guess! 
> 
> please forgive the sloppy writing and poor editing, i've been trying to churn out quick chapters in order to loosen up a little and hopefully gain some new ideas. 
> 
> updates may be a little irregular due to other commitments i have but i'll try my best to keep this story moving!
> 
> any feedback, suggestions and/or comments are incredibly appreciated!
> 
> welcome to lostmyhead. c:

it had been two hours since tyler sat down.

120 minutes of sitting at a blank desk, hunched over a blank notebook, scribbling the end of his pencil against the thin paper and staring rather blankly at nothing.

honestly, tyler couldn’t have cared less about the seconds he wasted in this chair, as long as he could exorcise some form of lyric out of his system. an idle finger pinched at the bridge of his nose, trying to contain the rising throb settling in his skull.

squinting his eyes, his field of vision blurred until heat prickled and light danced in peculiar rhythms around his bedroom.

jaw falling ajar, his deft fingers quickly scrawled a fleeting thought.

_i’ve got a migraine, and my pain will range from up, down and sideways._

the warmth behind his eyes continued to become an unwelcome itch, and with an unsteady hand a loose eyelash was dislodged from his tear duct.

strange patterns still wobbled in double-time in reaction to the light filtering into his room. tyler winced. he knew better than to argue with his blunt conscience in the wake of an incoming migraine.

no matter how much he felt the need to write, he also felt the need to go back to bed before the ground became his accidental naptime area. he arose, slowly, slowly.

not far to bed. just a step, then another -

the floor ran right up to meet the ceiling. it swelled with the waves of his nausea.

 _jeez._ each limb groaned in complaint as he slumped onto the cool floorboards. tyler sighed as he made a weak attempt to move from the ground.

he could’ve easily stayed there, he thought dizzily, as he ran a nail along the grains in the scuffed timber. but, no. _aspirin. i need some aspirin._

his head felt as if it floated off his shoulders as he drew his knees into a kneeling position. familiar tides of sickness churned his stomach. crouching there, he gave a minute shake of his head. he couldn’t even remember if or when he’d eaten in the last day or so.

self-care wasn’t exactly top of tyler’s priorities, and considering that he didn’t have anyone else around to remind him of such requirements his health often fell by the wayside.

once he’d stumbled to shaky feet, he gingerly swayed out of the room. his kitchen lights glared him in stark white. a hiss sounded from between his teeth. flitting out a hand he slapped the light switch off, wincing at the sting of his temples.

he took care not to clock himself over the head as he flung open one of the cupboards above him. one hand gripped the benchtop and the other hand rummaged through their contents.

instant coffee? shoved that to the side. protein bar? furrowing his brow, he pocketed it. with gritted teeth he continued the search, pausing every so often to check the kitchen drawers below. aspirin?

silver packaging glinted at him from the back of the cupboards, and with a huff tyler darted for the box.

and that’s exactly what it was. just a box. rattling the cardboard, he felt nothing give from within it. the empty painkiller ended up half way across the kitchen as he felt the urge to slide onto the floor again in frustration.

the rusted door handle sat passively in the corner of tyler’s eye. tilting his head downwards, pangs assaulted his stomach. he chewed on his chapped lip, rubbing at his arms subconsciously.

a fresh wave of dizzy fogged his mind. the thick slew of fog slipped its way between the bones of his ribcage and tyler felt his lungs grow heavy. he could feel himself choking on metaphorical smoke.

eyes darting up again, he gave one last accusing look at his apartment door before shuffling away from the bench. he’d have to go to the corner store. no biggie, just across the street. he could do this.

swallowing, his mouth tasted like ash. legs wobbled back into his bedroom, gaze tentatively wandering to the window sheltered by grey blinders. swiping his tongue over his mouth once again, he peeled the blind away.

at once, the wide world stood to attention in all its brightness. cars beetled across the road weaving between looming buildings and sliding on morning snow, traffic lights strobing rapidly and horns howling as if they censored the shouts and all the noise from the people outside, so many people, so much noise that he didn’t have to be there to detect it, he just knew, he just knew tha-

the walls shook as he tore the blind downwards.

he couldn’t do this. he just knew. he couldn’t.

‘crap,’ he swore, never failing to forget just how thin the fragile walls were in his matchbox home.

he was safe. he was safe. he was safe, the chant chorused around his train of thought. tyler’s vision blurred in and out once again, this time with hot tears. his palms grew clammy and he stood there for a moment, watching them tremble.

he looked up again. only the faintest stain of light remained from the outside. he wanted to scrub all the light in existence from his skin until shadow bled out and protected him from what lay beyond.

inevitably, he knew he’d have to go out tomorrow. painkillers weren’t going to replace themselves and he was almost certain his diet for the past week had consisted of nothing but various dishes of ramen.

sniffling, tyler felt liquid weep onto his chin, and he swiped a thumb over the raw split in his bottom lip. it never seemed to heal.

he could taste the ferrous red of blood as he retreated into the unmade sheets of his bed. constant chewing didn’t so much soothe tyler’s nerves, as much as give him a sense of release from the present.

after all this, his head still ached.

he bit down again.


End file.
